


Indiana Couldn't Save Me, So I Guess I'll Save Myself

by darkjaden825698



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: (But because of the alcohol involved it's not totally clear), (But he consents trust me), (I wouldn't write non-con), (Like he definitely consents), (Nate is pretty much drunk for all of it), Angst, Break Up, College, Dubious Consent, Flashbacks, M/M, Sexual Content, Suggestive Themes, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 02:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15898863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkjaden825698/pseuds/darkjaden825698
Summary: Drake runs into Harry Flynn again, drudging up old memories best left forgotten.Title is from "Kali Ma" by Neck Deep





	Indiana Couldn't Save Me, So I Guess I'll Save Myself

**Author's Note:**

> So I just finished playing Uncharted 3 the other day, and Nate is definitely 100% bisexual and you will not convince me otherwise. Sorry if I get some of the lore wrong surrounding Nate's backstory, I haven't been able to play Uncharted 4 or the Vita game yet, and I just started the official novel. I just liked the implied relationship between Harry and Nate and I wanted to explore that a bit. I didn't mean for it to become so angsty but let's face it; Nate's a big softie and Harry's kind of a dick so it would totally end up this way lol
> 
> Stay tuned for a potential sequel? Well, midquel?

Seeing Flynn again after all these years really messed with him. Part of that was because his current on-again-off-again-not-really-serious-but-also-kind-of-serious girlfriend Chloe was with him, but another part, a kind of huge part, is because she was with his former on-again-off-again-not-really-serious-but-also-kind-of-series boyfriend Flynn.

So yeah, it was kind of awkward.

It dated all the way back to their college days. That is, if Nate had actually attended college. Harry Flynn was an archaeology student at UCLA, a program which Nate had desperately wanted to get into. They met at a bar nearby when Nate was 19 (he’d managed to score a fake ID). Flynn was there to meet a blind date who’d stood him up, and Nate was there to get wasted and maybe find a couch to crash on for the night. Or a bed. If you catch the drift. Flynn offered to buy Nate a drink, which he’d graciously accepted. (Hey, never turn down free booze, right?)

“So what do you do around here?” Nate asked, taking a gulp of his IPA.

“I’m a sophomore at UCLA,” he said. “Archaeology.”

“Get out! That’s what I’ve always wanted to study.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Totally! You know I’m actually descended from Sir Francis Drake.”

“The famous explorer? Get out of here!”

“No, I swear! I’ve always wanted to be an explorer like him, hunt for treasure and shit.”

“Bloody hell!”

Drake chuckled. He didn’t mean to, but Flynn’s accent was kind of funny, in a charming sort of way, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit of a lightweight. Add in the two or three beers he’d managed to snag from the liquor store down the street, and Nate was kind of a bit plastered. “I like your accent, pretty boy.”

“Oh, I’m _pretty_ , am I? Well, I suppose it’s time for me to start growing out my beard again.”

“ _Noooooo_ ,” Nate droned. “I like it. I like your pretty face. It’s like, I wanna punch it. But like, with my own face.”

“Well, well, Mr. Drake, are you coming onto me?”

Color flushed to Nate’s cheeks. “What? Noooooo, me? _Noooooo._ I’m not, I mean, I’ve never, I don’t—”

Nate was cut off by Flynn’s hand, a gentle touch, placing it against his own on the bar counter. It sent a shiver down his spine.

Full disclosure: Nate isn’t gay. At least, he didn’t think he was. True, he’d never really had a girlfriend before, but that wasn’t for lack of trying. It’s not like his shitty childhood really gave him much of an opportunity. But damn, Flynn really was pretty. He had a soft voice and a cheeky grin and maybe Drake was just drunk, but damn if he wasn’t a little bit smitten.

“Do you want to come back to my dorm with me?” he whispered to Nate. “My roommate’s gone for the weekend, so it’d just be the two of us.”

And again, maybe it was just the alcohol talking, but there was nothing he wanted to do more than go to this pretty boy’s room and maybe make out with him a little bit.

Of course, they did a little more than make out.

“So hey,” Drake said afterwards. “If you’re only a sophomore, how were you in a bar? Did you have a fake ID, too?”

“Nah,” he said. “I took a year off after secondary school back when I was in London. Spent some time exploring the mountains, soul-searching and what have you. That was when I realized I wanted to be an archaeologist.”

“What made you decide to come to school here? Don’t you miss your family back home?”

“Not at all. Mum’s a cunt, and my dad up and left when I was a lad.”

“You talk so funny,” Nate said, stifling a laugh but unable to hide his enormous grin.

“I talk normal, maybe it’s you who talks funny!”

Nate laughed, and Flynn hit him with his pillow, rolling on top of him. Nate took in the sight of Flynn’s body. God, he really was pretty. His torso was covered with a light tan, and his chest and arms were not without a fair bit of muscle tone, no doubt from his year abroad in the mountains. A small scar was scrawled into his skin just beneath his left shoulder. Nate brushed it with his fingers.

It must have been a sensitive spot for Flynn, because he took Nate’s hand off of the scar and directed it a little bit lower.

“Ready for round two, eh?” Nate said with a smirk. Flynn chuckled.

“I doubt your arse could handle a round two, Mr. Drake.”

“Oh yeah?” Drake said, peering over Flynn’s shoulder. “Well it looks like you’ve got a perfectly nice _arse_ right there we could use.”

Flynn laughed. “Not on your life, mate,” he said, but he leaned down and gave Nate a kiss anyway.

This became a regular thing for the two of them, every weekend or so, Nate would sneak into the bar. Flynn would be there. He’d buy Nate a beer, and then they’d head back to Flynn’s dorm room and roll around on the bed a bit. Sometimes Flynn’s roommate would be there, and they’d have to kick him out for the night, but most times he went home and the two of them could fuck in peace.

Then eventually, Nate turned 20. And it was kind of special. It was during a weekday, but Flynn still took him out for drinks. Flynn must have bought him at least ten shots that night, so by the time he and Flynn were headed back to his dorm, Nate was full-on obliterated. Flynn had to carry Nate on his back and sneak him past the front desk.

When they got up to his room, Flynn dropped Nate onto the bed.

“Jesus, what’s up with him?” asked Flynn’s roommate.

“It’s his birthday,” Flynn told him. “We went out for drinks.”

“Is he…alive?”

“’Course he’s alive, you twit, I didn’t kill him!”

“Okay, ‘cause he’s like…not moving.”

“What? He’s…damn it, Nate. You bloody went and passed out before I could even give you your birthday blowie.”

“Dude, gross.”

The following morning, Nate woke up nuzzled against Flynn’s back, groggy and still a bit drunk from the night previous. Also hard. He woke up very, very hard. Which he used to his advantage, nudging himself up against Flynn’s backside.

“Well, hello there, sailor,” said a sleepy Flynn.

“Morning, Harry,” Drake said, stifling a yawn.

“I see you slept well.”

“Like a baby. You?”

“No complaints here, especially with you all snuggled up again me.”

Flynn’s roommate gagged from the other side of the room.

“Grow up, mate.”

Finally, the yawn Drake had been holding back escape, and he rolled over onto his back, stretching his arms and legs wide, nearly clocking Flynn’s jaw in the process.

“Oy, watch it.”

“Sorry,” Drake laughed.

Harry rolled onto his side and threw his arm around Drake, hiding his face in his shoulder. “Don’t you have class today?” Drake asked.

“If you think I’m going to class with the massive hangover I’ve got right now, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Oh _you_ have a hangover? You’re not the one who was passed out from the _dozen_ _shots_ you had thrown your way last night.”

“Don’t say that like you didn’t love it.”

“Oh I did, I loved every second of last night, and when I finally sober up in the next few hours, my head is going to be _killing_ me.”

“Best make the next few hours count, then,” Flynn said. Drake didn’t even have to ask what he meant; his hands were already under the covers.

It felt different than all the other nights. Maybe it was just the fact that it was a weekday and Flynn’s roommate begrudgingly got ready for class while Flynn gave Drake a handjob under the comforter, but to Drake, it felt special. It probably shouldn’t have, but he was young, dumb, and kind of drunk still. So of course, Drake thought it was a perfectly opportune time to tell Flynn, “I love you.”

Flynn stopped stroking. He pulled his hand up from under the covers—much to Drake’s dismay—and gave Drake a look he couldn’t decipher. Kind of puzzled mixed with shock and panic.

“What?”

“Drake. I, uh…” He trailed off.

“Flynn, what? What is it?”

Drake sat up in bed and looked at Flynn, a pit growing in his stomach. His heart felt more and more heavy with each second of silence they shared.

Flynn looked away. “I, um…You know that…that this was just a casual thing, right?”

It was like Flynn had strapped a hundred-pound weight onto his heart, dragging it down into the depths of his intestines. It was currently being dissolved by his stomach acid as they spoke.

“No,” he said. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Bloody hell, Drake,” Flynn said. “I thought you just wanted to fool around and shit.”

“I did,” Nate said. “At least, at first. I was sad and lonely and horny and you were pretty and had a funny accent.”

“Christ, Nate, if I’d know you were gonna bloody fall in love with me…”

Flynn didn’t even finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. He just trailed off and averted his eyes. Something bubbled up inside Nate.

“You’d what? You’d have never spoken to me? Never bought me that drink? Never kissed me? Never stuck your god damn cock up my ass?”

“I’m just not looking for anything serious right now.”

“Bull shit, Flynn. Bull fucking shit. You don’t fool around with someone for six god damn months and not even feel a little bit for them.”

“Nate, you don’t understand, I thought we were just friends.”

But Nate didn’t hear him. Wasn’t listening. The only thing he could hear was the blood boiling in his ears. All he could concentrate on at that moment was not stumbling as he picked himself up and stormed out of the room. Jesus, standing up was a bad idea. He was still drunk and the room was spinning and he was probably making an ass out of himself. But he didn’t care. He just. Didn’t. Care. Rage coursed through him like a river of boiling blood. Rage, and pain. Nate was sure there were tears streaming down his face right now, but he was too numb to feel them.

God, how could he have been so stupid? Of course Flynn didn’t feel that way about him. All they ever did was drink beer and have sex. Their connection was barely anything beyond physical. Who was he kidding? There was _nothing_ to their connection beyond physical. They were just two horny kids who managed to find something that worked to get their rocks off. Nate was a fucking moron to think otherwise.

And why is it that every guy just wants to fuck? Drake was a guy, and even _he’d_ wanted something more serious than whatever it was he had with Flynn. God, even his name in the back of his mind set Nate’s chest on fire. Harry Flynn. Harry Goddamn Flynn. Man, he was starting to sound like Sully now.

\---

Of course, Nate and Flynn had done a couple odd jobs together as thieves or treasure hunters since then, and they’d never really brought up their past. Drake assumed Flynn would rather forget everything that happened between them, and Drake was inclined to agree.

But still, seeing him again sort of tore open the stitches around his heart. Stitches he’d long since forgotten about. And what the hell was the deal with Chloe? How did they know each other? He shouldn’t have been surprised, they were both British. Maybe they even knew each other back in London? Whatever. He still couldn’t believe that he and Chloe had both slept with Flynn.

It…was kinda hot, now that he thought about it. Maybe he could convince the two of them into a threesome.

No, no. No. Stop it, Nate. It wouldn’t do his heart any good to think about that right now.

Right now, they had a mission to accomplish.

But maybe after this was all over, the three of them could settle down and take a nice vacation somewhere. Maybe they could reconnect, on some beach bar somewhere, and the three of them could drink martinis and reminisce and everything would be fine again. Everything would be great again.

Maybe. Or Maybe Nate’s kidding himself.


End file.
